


Only You

by cylobaby27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Feels, Fluff, M/M, Profound Bond, References to Homophobia, grad student!Cas, human!AU, mechanic/bartender!Dean, no monsters!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylobaby27/pseuds/cylobaby27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John's death, Dean moves out to Palo Alto to be closer to Sam, who is studying at Stanford. Despite their proximity, the brothers barely have time to see each other between Sam's studying and Dean's two jobs, leaving Dean feeling tired and lonely. However, when he meets a slightly awkward and completely serious graduate student named Castiel, all of that changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You

Dean’s fingers itched for a beer as soon as he set foot inside the apartment. There were more than two dozen people crammed in the small space, all laughing and talking. Dean didn’t recognize any of them.

He had been let in by one of the party-goers since the hosts were busy celebrating. Dean couldn’t help being a bit relieved when he stepped into the living room and was immediately spotted by his brother. “Dean!” Sam exclaimed, standing up from the couch. The student towered over the guests, and his wide smile lit up the room. “You made it!”

“Ellen let me have the night off,” Dean told him, allowing himself to be pulled into a quick hug. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Though Dean had moved to Palo Alto more than two months ago in order to be closer to his little brother, between Sam’s studying at Stanford and Dean’s two jobs, they had barely seen each other. 

“You too. Dean, you remember Jess, right?” Sam asked perfunctorily when his girlfriend appeared beside them. Jess was a pretty blonde with a bright smile and playful eyes. It had only taken one meal all together for Dean to decide that his favorite part about Jess was the way she made Sam act. When he was with his girlfriend, the headstrong kid who had clashed constantly with their father was replaced by an overlarge puppy, complete with adoring eyes and barely contained energy.

“Hi, Dean,” Jess greeted. 

The party was being held to celebrate Jess moving in with Sam. There was a pile of housewarming gifts on the coffee table, making Dean’s hands feel conspicuously empty. “Regretting your decision yet?” Dean teased. “I lived with this big lug for years, so I’ve got to say you’re a brave woman.” 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam groaned. 

“Nope, no regrets,” Jess said, giving Sam a quick peck on the lips.

Sam grinned and then offered, “Come on, I’ll show you where the drinks are.” He led Dean out of the crowded living room. People smiled at Sam as he passed, and Dean had to admit that Sam looked happy.

“Who are all these people, anyway?” he asked.

“Just people Jess and I know from school,” Sam said. “You should talk to some of them. They’re nice.”

“I believe it,” Dean said noncommittally. 

The kitchen was empty, so after Sam handed Dean a beer from the fridge, he leaned against the counter and asked, “So how are you?”

“Fine.”

“I just mean, you know, I know it’s been a rough few months. Dad died, you came out to California. You don't even like California! I just want to make sure you’re happy here,” Sam said. 

“I’m fine. This is supposed to be a party, Sammy. Don’t waste it trying to talk about feelings,” Dean complained.

“I’m just not sure you’re really dealing with Dad’s—”

“Sam. Not here.”

Sam sighed but changed the subject. “How’s work?”

“Ellen and Bobby are both great. Cars and booze, what’s not like to like?” Dean had landed a job working at Singer Auto with a gruff man named Bobby Singer and worked nights tending bar at The Roadhouse. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“You don’t have to work all the time.”

“Stanford’s not free, big boy,” Dean reminded him. And with Dad gone, it was up to Dean to help Sam pay for the stuff his partial scholarship didn’t cover.

“I could get a part-time job,” Sam offered quickly. 

Dean shook his head. “You just focus on acing your classes. You can pay me back when you’re a hot-shot lawyer.”

“Like you’d ever take a check from me,” Sam pointed out. “I just don’t want to see you working yourself to death for me.”

“It’s fine, Sam. Pay me back by having fun, spending time with Jess. Don’t you dare waste your time trying to balance work and school.”

“You’re just as stubborn as Dad was,” Sam complained. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Dean…”

“Look, man, enjoy your party. You’ve got a good thing going here.”

Sam’s gaze was analytical, considering him. His brother had always had a way of seeing past Dean’s bullshit. “Stick around for a while,” he said finally. “You might actually enjoy yourself.”

Dean let out a sigh as soon as Sam left the kitchen, wondering if it wouldn’t just be better for him to head back to his own apartment. However, he took a swig of his beer and trailed after Sam. There were some hot girls at the party, all a few years younger than Dean. Considering the glances he was getting, though, it didn’t seem to be an issue. Part of him wanted to take one or two of them home, but then Sam would give him the bitchface for having a one-night stand with his ‘nice’ friends. Normally that wouldn’t be enough to give Dean even the slightest pause, but he had moved to California for Sam and didn’t want to risk alienating him now. 

Scanning the room, Dean spotted the only other person not already engaged in conversation and then headed his way. The man had dark, tousled hair and was wearing a suit and tan trench coat. Though he was leaning against the wall alone at a party in someone else’s apartment, simply staring at his surroundings with a look that seemed to see nothing, he looked strangely comfortable. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his distance from those around him was unusual. 

“Uh, hey,” Dean said, leaning against the wall next to him, avoiding a watercolor landscape painting. Dean honestly couldn’t tell whether the ugly artwork had been picked out by Sam or Jess.

The man looked over at him with vaguely curious, extremely blue eyes. “Hello.”

They stood in silence for a couple of moments, which Dean used to try to relax his posture. He tended to grow tense from head to foot after an unresolved fight, especially with his brother. When Dean got tired of the silence that the man was clearly going to simply let continue, Dean said, “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” he replied, turning his assessing gaze on Dean once again. 

“So how do you know Sam? Or are you one of Jess’s?” 

“I do not belong to anyone. I was Sam’s TA in a Johannine Literature course last semester. I assisted him with several papers, and we see each other on campus on occasion. He was… kind enough to invite me here.”

“Johannine? Is that some sort of author?” Dean asked.

“It refers to the works of the apostle John,” Castiel informed him. 

“A Bible study class?”

For the first time, Castiel’s expression changed, his lips tilting into a frown. “There is literary value in the Bible. A monumental amount of literature is based on or alludes in some way to the Judeo-Christian Bible,” he said. “John possessed an impressive attention to detail, which makes for interesting study.” 

Dean shrugged. “I guess I never really thought about it. I don’t read much.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Not everyone has time to kick back with a book,” Dean pointed out, feeling unreasonably defensive.

“And when you do have the time?” Castiel prodded. 

“Huh?”

“It is not that you find books boring or useless, but that you don’t have time. So, what do you like to read?”

Dean blinked. Most people assumed from Dean’s GED, pretty face, and low-paying jobs that he was an idiot, and it wasn’t an assumption that he bothered trying to correct. Hell, even he believed it most days. For some reason, Dean didn’t want to just blow off this strange man and find someone normal to talk with. “I like Kurt Vonnegut. I read Slaughterhouse Five a half-dozen times. Don’t tell Sam, though, he’d never let me live it down.”

“Live what down? That you enjoy reading? Sam attends Stanford and took a biblical literature class for fun. I do not believe he would judge you.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dean looked over Castiel again, but his body language was open and honest. There was something oddly sincere in the way he spoke, as though he saw no need for the posturing and assumptions that others made in order to slide through conversations without having to say anything. Dean adjusted his body so that he was leaning more comfortably against the wall. “People don’t expect me to read.”

“Ah,” Castiel said. “I do not mind that you read.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean laughed, a genuine smile taking over his face. 

“Cas?”

“It’s a nickname. Unless you don’t like—”

“No, it’s fine,” Castiel replied. “People tend not to shorten my name.”

“Ever? I mean, Castiel is a bit of a mouthful.”

Castiel hesitated, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I do not believe people feel relaxed enough around me to do so. I make people uncomfortable.”

“You’re not so hard to talk to,” Dean shrugged. 

The other man’s lips quirked into something resembling a smile. “I’m glad you think so, Dean.”

Though their position on the wall was uncomfortable, Dean and Castiel continued to talk until they suddenly looked up and found that nearly all of the guests had left. Castiel was a strange guy, but his unique perspective and bullshit-free manner of speaking made Dean interested in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. The guy wasn’t hard on the eyes either, but Dean wasn’t ready to out himself to Sam by taking home his brother’s ex-TA from Sam’s own party. 

When Castiel looked at his watch and said that he had to leave, there was a note of real regret in his voice. Impulsively, Dean pulled out his cell phone. “Listen, man, like I said, I’m new in town, so could I have your number? Maybe we could hang out again.”

Castiel looked startled. “Yes. Let me read it to you.”

“Let me guess—you don’t have it memorized.”

With an irritated glare, Castiel said, “I have better things to do than memorize a number that I have on my person at all relevant times.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s cool, man.” Castiel read the number to Dean, who quickly typed it into his phone before firing a text with his own name in it to Cas’s number. “And now you have mine, too.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Dean,” Castiel said, nodding to him. 

“Have a good one,” Dean said, waving as the other man departed.

Glancing around, Dean realized that Castiel had been the last guest to leave. Sam and Jess were sitting on the couch, talking quietly. “I guess I’ll be heading out now,” Dean said, approaching them.

Sam climbed to his feet and grinned at him. “Did you have fun?” he asked eagerly. 

With a small smile, Dean said, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

\--

Dean didn’t hear from Castiel through the next week, but he found his thoughts turning occasionally to the strange man. Even at Bobby’s garage or Ellen’s bar, he wondered what Castiel was up to, and whether he would ever text Dean. They had only met for a few hours, and it wasn’t like Castiel was obligated to call up a casual acquaintance who had kept him company at a housewarming party. If anything, it would probably weird if they saw each other again. Dean wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or something. His life had experienced enough upheavals in the past few months without finally trying to come to terms with his bisexuality, and Castiel probably wasn’t interested anyway. Still, Dean was…lonely. And Cas had been cool. 

So on Sunday afternoon when Dean woke up at noon with nowhere to go, since Bobby had forced him to take at least one day a week off, he found himself scrolling through his phone to Castiel’s number. His thumb hovered over the button, but then he mentally smacked himself for being a girl. 

However, as soon as the phone began ringing, Dean started mentally cursing himself for not being a normal person and just shooting Castiel a casual text. Who called people these days? Castiel was going to think he was a complete stalker. 

“Hello, Dean.”

"Hi, Cas. Listen, I was wondering if you're busy today."

"I'm always busy."

Dean wondered if Castiel was trying to not-so-subtly tell Dean to fuck off, but it didn't seem like Castiel's style. "Even Sundays?"

"I may study religious literature, but I do not observe the Sabbath. I have to grade around a dozen essays for tomorrow, as well as do some research for my own projects," Castiel replied readily. 

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I was just bored and wanted to see if you wanted to hang. But don't worry about it."

"I don’t have too much extra time today," he explained. 

"I know, it's fine."

“But I could spare at least an hour or so, if you were still interested in coming over.”

Dean hesitated, but hey, he offered. "I’ll be there soon.”

Forty-five minutes later, Dean was parking outside a small apartment complex a few blocks away from Stanford’s main campus. He found Castiel’s apartment easily, since the man had given him ridiculously detailed directions, and knocked twice. 

Castiel greeted him with a small smile and welcomed him inside. Dean wasn’t surprised that Castiel’s apartment was as small as his own, though it was far more cluttered. While Dean’s idea of decoration was slapping a magnet on his fridge and he kept his car far cleaner than his apartment, Castiel’s combined style of absolutely no excess decorations and towering piles of books and papers made even Dean raise his eyebrows. Like Castiel’s hastily thrown together clothes, his apartment showed that his attention was on the content rather than the appearance of things. 

Dean wondered exactly why, then, that Castiel was open to hanging out with him. 

“How’s it going?” Dean asked as he looked around the apartment curiously. 

“It is going fine,” Castiel replied. “And for you?”

“I’m good.”

Castiel cocked his head, looking Dean over with a gaze which was just as piercing as he remembered it being. “I am… glad to see you again.”

Dean shrugged. Holding up the plastic bag he was carrying, he said, “I figured if you’ve been cooped up working all day, you could use some grub.”

“That was very thoughtful.”

“Yeah, well, I was hungry, too,” Dean said, following Castiel into the kitchen. “Dude, is there any surface you don’t use for books?” 

Castiel contemplated that. "...My bed is currently free of papers."

"That took you too long to remember," Dean laughed, pulling out the styrofoam boxes. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got two of what I usually get. I hope you like cheeseburgers. You’re not a vegetarian or something, are you?”

Raising his eyebrows, Castiel took a box. “No, I am not. Cheeseburgers are one of my favorite indulgences.”

“Then you are going to love these. I got ‘em from the place I work. It’s called The Roadhouse, and is only a few minutes away from here. Benny, the cook, is awesome.”

After Castiel pushed some papers out of the way, they settled down at his small kitchen table. Dean unwrapped his bacon cheeseburger enthusiastically and took a large bite. More cautiously, Castiel followed suit. The moan the other man let out was more than a little indecent. It was practically porn-worthy, and Dean knew his porn. “This is amazing,” Castiel told him. 

Dean chuckled. “I’ll send your compliments to the chef.”

They chatted as they ate, reminding Dean why he had been so immediately drawn to the other man. He was nothing like Dean’s normal type. His voice was gruff, but there was a deliberate air to everything he said, and he never cussed. They didn’t talk about sports or cars or women, but somehow the conversation seemed to flow as easily as breathing. Dean talked about Sam and told anecdotes from his jobs, while Castiel added in the occasional comment and talked about his research. 

Before he knew it, it had been more than two hours. The food was long gone, but Dean was enjoying the company. However, when Castiel caught sight of the clock, he sighed. “I have to start working now or I won’t finish by tomorrow.”

“I guess I should leave you to it,” Dean said reluctantly. 

“Do you have anything planned for the day?” Castiel questioned. 

Dean shrugged. “Not until I have to go to Ellen’s at nine. I’ll just find a game to watch or maybe even pick up a book.”

“I have books here.”

“I noticed,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows.

"If you would like company, you're welcome to pick one of my books and remain here. I would have to be working, and I doubt I'll be a very good conversationalist while I did so, but the offer stands. Of course, if you're looking for a simple presence, I find coffee-shops are often full of people."

“If you’re sure I wouldn’t be bothering you or interrupting your work, or whatever,” Dean said, already starting to grin.

"I can assure you, Dean, that if I feared your presence would hinder my ability to work, you would not have been invited," Castiel told him seriously, and Dean believed him. 

Dean picked up One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which Castiel suggested that he would like. He settled on the couch and leaned back into the slightly uncomfortable cushions. Castiel sat at the desk in the corner of the room, a stack of books and a laptop in front of him.

Since he was rarely able to be completely silent unless he had a blaring stereo in the background, Dean made occasional comments to Castiel about the book as he read. Though he continued to work studiously at his desk, he always had an answer for Dean. Every once in a while, Cas would tell Dean to hold his comment for a few minutes so that Cas could finish whatever he was working on at that moment, but Dean never felt unwelcome. 

At the end of the day, when Dean had to leave to work the evening at The Roadhouse, it was with reluctance. 

"I'm glad you came over, even if there wasn't much for you to do," Castiel said as they stood by the door. 

"I had fun," Dean assured him. "I'm really liking the book so far, too."

"You can come back whenever you'd like to finish it," Castiel said, before quickly adding, "Or you could just take it with you and return it later. Just don't dog-ear the pages."

"How else would I prove that I read it?" Dean said, winking to show that he was teasing. "But I'd rather read it here, if that's all right with you. It's not as fun talking to myself about what's happening."

Castiel gave him a genuine smile. "You're welcome any time. If I'm not in class, then you'll be able to find me here."

"You need to get out more," Dean commented. "Look, I've got to run. I'll see you later, though. Maybe Tuesday after I finish at the garage? I'm free from five until nine."

"I'll see you then. Goodbye, Dean."

"Later, Cas."

\--

They fell into a routine over the next several weeks. Castiel hadn't been kidding when he had said that he spent almost all of his free time in his apartment, so Dean began swinging by during his rare breaks in work just to eat or talk together. 

For all of Castiel's proclaimed social awkwardness, their time together seemed easy for both of them. Castiel still spent most of their time with one eye skimming a book or grading an essay, but he assured Dean that his presence made the work go by faster. For his part, Dean had flown through One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest and was starting on Castiel's collection of George Orwell novels. 

At work one Friday night a few weeks after he and Castiel had met at Sam's party, Dean was helping clean up after closing at The Roadhouse. As he wiped down the bar, Benny, the cook, slid onto a stool in front of him. "Hey, brother." Benny was originally from the heart of Louisiana, and though he'd somehow ended up in California, he kept his beard scruffy and his accent Cajun. 

"Hey, man," Dean greeted. "You know," he added, "I just cleaned those stools."

Benny shrugged. "And you also just cleaned the glasses, but are you going to turn me down a glass of bourbon after a long week?"

"Yeah," Dean said as he set a tumbler onto the bar and poured the other man some cranberry juice. Benny was three months sober, ever since he had discovered that his wife was pregnant. 

Benny sighed but took a sip of the juice. "You're a good man, Dean Winchester."

"I'm just trying to turn you into one," Dean said, replacing the cranberry juice and stifling a yawn. 

"Are you doing okay?" Benny asked, expression suddenly serious. 

"Fine," Dean said immediately. 

Benny gave him a skeptical look. "Because you've been exhausted lately—more so than usual. Is there something wrong?"

"It's honestly fine," Dean replied. 

"Then what's going on?"

"I've just had things to do lately, so I'm not taking as many naps," he admitted, keeping his voice light. 

"You'd tell me if you needed help." He didn't phrase it as a question. 

Dean shrugged and Benny leaned across the counter to punch his shoulder. "I've been hanging out with a friend a lot, that's all," Dean promised. 

Benny grinned. "A girlfriend?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No! I mean... he's a guy, but we're just friends," Dean insisted. "He's cool. Well, not cool, but he's a good guy."

Benny snickered. "You have hearts coming out of your eyes, brother."

"I'm not gay," Dean hissed quietly, looking around the empty restaurant. 

Raising his eyebrows, Benny said, "I've seen you look at the ladies. But I've also seen you look at the male persuasion. I'm not judging ya, Dean."

Dean sighed heavily and gave up the denial. "Just don't tell anyone, okay? Not everyone's so cool about it." Just the memories of his dad's casual comments about 'that kind' of guy were enough to make Dean shuffle uncomfortably. John Winchester was dead, but Dean could still hear his voice in his head. The old man would have freaked if he knew that Dean occasionally got caught up in how blue Cas's eyes were.

"But the ones who matter will be," Benny told him. Finishing off the juice, he stood up. "Just don't live to regret not doing something, okay, kid?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said. "Go home and kiss your baby-mama's tummy."

"That I will," Benny said, tipping an imaginary hat to Dean. "Get some sleep, Dean."

\--

"I'm surprised you woke up this early," Sam said after they ordered their breakfast. The waitress had raised her eyebrows at the variety and amount they had requested, but had written it all down without question. 

Dean shrugged. "It was the only time we both had free," he said. "Besides, who says no to pancakes?"

Sam grinned at him and took a large gulp of coffee. "It's good to keep the same schedule on weekends as weekdays. You shouldn’t be sleeping until noon anyway."

"Let me guess-- you've been up since five and you’ve already worked out."

"Six," Sam corrected as though that were any better. 

It was the first time they had seen each other since Sam's house-warming party. "How are you and Jess?"

"Great," Sam said, grinning. 

"What, she's not yelling at you to pick up your socks?"

"I think you're getting us mixed up. You're the one who always left your clothes all over the place. But, yeah, we bicker occasionally. Who doesn't? It doesn't mean that I don't love living with her."

"That's great, Sammy," Dean said. 

"Are you still liking your apartment? It was pretty... small."

"I'm just one dude. I don't need a mansion."

Sam raised his eyebrows, telling Dean without words that he had noticed his avoidance of the question. "Have you made any friends?"

"What's with the Twenty Questions?"

With a huff, Sam snapped, "I just want to make sure you're happy. Just because I came to Stanford doesn't mean I don't care about you. And obviously you care about me too, since you moved all the way out here."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said. Without trying to mask it, he changed the subject. "How're your classes?"

Sam explained his classes to Dean, from the electives he was required to take by the university to the ones in his major. Since there wasn't a specific pre-law track at Stanford, Sam was double-majoring in political science and philosophy. While Dean may have enjoyed reading, Sam's descriptions of a text by Hagel he had read for class sounded far beyond Dean's level. Still, Sam was genuinely excited about all of his courses. 

It wasn't until Dean had seen him at Stanford in the flesh that Dean realized that his brother had never been meant for a life spent traveling with their dad's work. Having a place to belong that encouraged his mind and his independence was helping Sam really flourish. 

All of Dean's hard work felt vindicated seeing his little brother so happy. 

Of course, when Dean tried to express that sentiment out-loud, everything went to hell. 

"I don't want my happiness to be a sacrifice on your part!" Sam said immediately. 

"I didn't mean it like... Sam, I'm happy to help you get through college."

"You don't have to do so much. You're being a martyr," he retorted. 

Throwing a wink at his brother to lighten the conversation, Dean said, "I am far too self-centered to be a martyr."

Sam's face remained deadly serious. "You are the most selfless person I know, and it's not always a good thing."

"God, I just can't win with you!" Dean growled. 

"Now that you're not throwing your life away to make Dad happy, you're trying to do it to make me happy. I don't want to be your replacement for Dad!"

"Seriously, Sam? I stayed with Dad because I was a good son-- a loyal son! And now I'm trying to be a good brother. Family is the most important thing we have."

"I'm just saying that I want you to be happy. You do everything for me—why not let me do something for you? You don't have to let me define you."

"It's my job to protect you, and it always has been." Dean hesitated, but then said, "If I don't have that, then who am I?"

"That's what you need to find out. Find something or someone that you want to put your time into. I'll be fine without you."

"What, are you telling me to leave?” Dean challenged. “Come on, I moved out here for you!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have!"

Dean felt like he'd been slapped. 

Sam immediately back-pedaled. "That's not what I meant. I just meant you can't make all of your decisions based on me."

"No, I get it," Dean said coldly, slapping a twenty on the table to cover their meal. "Just forget I'm even here." Without looking back at Sam's face, even as his brother called his name, Dean left the restaurant. 

\--

Dean was so wrapped up in the anger and heartbreak roiling in his chest that he didn't even realize where he was going until he was standing in front of Castiel's door. 

The grad student opened the door. "You're here early for a Sun..." Castiel trailed off, eyes flicking from Dean's face to his clenched fists, and immediately stepped aside so Dean could enter. "What happened?"

"Just a stupid fight with Sam," he explained with a forced nonchalance that Castiel clearly didn't believe for a second. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the six-pack he had brought over the last time he had visited. 

When he stood back up, he found Castiel watching him. "Would you like to discuss it?"

"I really don't," Dean said tiredly. 

Castiel nodded, accepting Dean's statement. "All right."

Dean followed Castiel into the living room and took his normal spot on the couch. "How's your research going?"

"Slowly but steadily," Castiel replied from his seat at his desk. His familiar gravelly voice was oddly soothing. "Last week I spent hours translating that text from Armenian only to find out that it was irrelevant to my studies."

"That sucks, man," Dean replied.

Dean listened to Castiel explain his work for almost an hour before Castiel returned to his writing and Dean picked up Animal Farm. The steady sound of Castiel flipping pages and scratching out notes helped distract Dean from his own thoughts. Eventually, the adventures of the allegorical pigs on the farm couldn't keep his attention, and he decided to lean back into the pillows and close his eyes for a few seconds. 

When Dean woke up, it was with a crick in his neck and a deep sense of peace, which unsettled him enough that he sat up immediately. From the tiny windows in Castiel's apartment, he could see that the sun was far lower in the sky than when had last looked. 

Footsteps from the kitchen made him look over. Castiel entered the living room, a pinched set to his lips. 

"Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing at his sore neck. “Sorry about that. How long was I out for?"

"More than five hours." The grad student looked less than happy. 

"I'm really sorry, man. You should have woken me up."

"You clearly needed the rest," Castiel said. 

When Castiel's tight expression didn't ease, Dean continued, "I didn't mean to impose or something. I know this isn't my place. I didn't come to visit just so I could fall asleep on you."

"It's fine."

"Um, okay," Dean said uncertainly. "Well, then I'll just get out of your hair."

"How much sleep do you get a night?"

"Cas?"

"Dean," Castiel said. 

"Like four hours? It depends," he said finally. 

"Have you been working more than usual?"

"No, same hours," Dean replied, uncertain where this conversation was going but already sure he didn't like it. 

"Because it seems that you are getting more exhausted every time I look at you. I didn't say anything because I trust you to make your own decisions, but you worried me today."

Dean shrugged. "Today was just a one-off. Don't sweat it."

"I'm not blind, Dean. Do you not have any time to sleep or relax? Studies show that exhaustion and stress can lead to long-term health problems,” Castiel told him matter-of-factly, “Even a few hours of napping can be enough to give you a boost."

"I know, Cas, I used to take naps all the time."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "But you do not now?"

Flustered, Dean admitted, "I spend all my time here!"

"Instead of sleeping? Why?" Castiel asked, perplexed.

"Because I like hanging out here. Is that so hard to understand?"

"My company is not worth your health."

"Not you too," Dean groaned, standing up. "Look, if you don't want me around all the time, just say the word. I'm a big boy, I can handle it. But don't act like it's for my good."

"Dean, your presence is the best part of my day," Castiel said matter-of-factly. "If you're not here, then I am likely here alone. But I refuse to allow you to experience any distress in your attempts to keep me company."

"Well, when I'm not here, I'm just home alone in my tiny apartment. All of my neighbors are either older than dirt or married with little kids who cry all day. When I grew up, I was never alone, so I’m not used to this. Even if my dad wasn't home, then Sam was. But now Dad's gone, Sam wishes I were too, and I don't have anyone!" Dean shouted. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, voice infused with sympathy and concern.

Startled by his own outburst, Dean looked away. "Sorry. You didn't need to hear all that."

Dean was jostled slightly as Castiel sat on the couch next to him. "My family kicked me out and told me not to come back a few years ago. I understand being lonely. I was accustomed to having a dozen people around at all times. Of course, it was far from paradise. There are few people whose company I can endure for extended periods of time." There was a gentle nudge on Dean's arm. "And by ‘few’, I mean only you."

Dean grinned and nudged Castiel back. "What happened?" he inquired. 

"My views of religion were different from theirs. My homosexuality did not help matters at all." It was the first time that Castiel had mentioned his sexuality at all, and Dean deliberately kept his posture relaxed. "My brothers tended to listen to everything my father said. The only one I am still in contact with is my cousin, Gabriel, and sometimes I think he only does so to irritate the rest of my family."

"Well, they're missing out," Dean said fiercely. 

"Most people agree with them, at least when it comes to the appeal of my company. I know that I can be... strange. When we talk, though, I do not feel as though I am." 

"You're definitely strange," Dean assured him. "I like it, though."

"And you're insensitive, but I seem to like that as well," Castiel teased. "The point of the story is that I understand loneliness, and I'm glad I can help alleviate some of that for you. You're welcome here any time, whether to talk, to read, or even to sleep."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, grinning at him. “I’ll take you up on that.”

\--

"What do you mean you've never seen Star Wars?"

"I mean I've never seen Star Wars," Castiel said with a shrug. 

"Dude, seriously? Don't you know that it's, like, a requirement of being alive?" Dean demanded. They were eating pizza in Castiel's kitchen during Dean's break between working at the garage and heading to The Roadhouse. "This is unacceptable."

"There are a dozen of those films," Castiel said reluctantly. 

"The ones you have to see are the original three. I never say no to lightsabers, but Han Solo is the best part of the series," Dean insisted. "Seriously, that guy was my idol." He was also Dean's first crush, but he doesn't mention that part. Castiel was attractive in a completely different way than Harrison Ford. He had a bit of scruff, but he was far from an arrogant smuggler. Still, Castiel had brains, a dry sense of humor, and bright blue eyes that saw Dean to his core. Somehow, that had become preferable to a devilish rogue. 

When the hell had that happened? 

Castiel shrugged, snapping Dean from his reverie and making him realize he had been staring a bit too deeply into Cas’s eyes. "I do not watch movies very often."

"You're watching these. I wish I didn't work shifts at the bar every night, or I'd say we could marathon it one night, but we'll just have to split it up over a few days."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Do I not get an opinion on this?"

With a smirk, Dean said, "You can help decide whether we eat popcorn or order in real food, but we're definitely watching them. I can rent them before I come over tomorrow."

"I have work to do," Castiel pointed out. 

"Yeah, yeah, you always have work to do."

"I am a graduate student."

"So work while we watch. I know you can multi-task. Just pay attention—there will be a quiz after."

Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh, but his eyes were amused. "I suppose I have no other choice."

"Damn straight," Dean said. "Man, Sam and I used to watch those in every motel..." With a rough laugh, he added, "The stupid kid always liked Luke best. You'll understand when you see it why that shows that Sam has horrible taste."

"Have you spoken to him since your disagreement?" Castiel inquired. 

It had been almost a week since their fight in the diner, and Dean still felt it like a raw wound in his chest. "No," Dean admitted. "He called a few days ago, but I didn't pick up."

"I saw him on campus yesterday. He looked sad."

Dean scoffed. "He probably just found out that the dining hall was out of salad."

"You are both extremely attached to each other. I remember how excited he was when he told me that you were going to come to his house-warming party. I'm sure your fight is bothering him as well."

"I'm not bothered," he said. When Castiel just raised his eyebrows, Dean sighed and admitted, "He said that I shouldn't have ever moved out here."

Castiel looked startled. "Sam said that?"

"Yeah." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "He said that it was stupid of me to make my decisions based on him, or something. But he's my family, you know?"

Castiel leaned back in his chair, spearing Dean with his startlingly focused stare.  
"Do you want Sam to be happy?"

"Of course," Dean said. 

"How would you feel if he was working two jobs and living alone while you were having the time of your life?" 

With a shrug, Dean said, "Guilty as hell. But that's different. He's my little brother."

"Why is if different? You deserve happiness just as much as Sam. Apparently, he thinks so too."

Dean sighed. "I screwed this up, didn't I?"

Castiel shook his head. "If Sam's the kind of person I think he is, he'll be ready to make amends. One of you will have to make the first step, though."

"That's not exactly my forte," Dean admitted, leaning back on the couch. 

"Well, you are the big brother," Castiel pointed out with a small smile. 

"Just don't think that I forgot about making you watch Star Wars just because you distracted me with feelings," Dean said, but he was pretty sure that Castiel heard the silent 'thank you.'

\--

Dean took Castiel’s words to heart, and planned on calling Sam the next day, since he went to work at The Roadhouse immediately after leaving Castiel’s place. 

He was in the middle of stacking a collection of shot glasses when Jo, who was tending bar with Dean due to the Saturday night crowd, swatted him with her dishrag. "Looks like it's time for your break," she said.

"Huh?" Dean asked, glancing up. Following her gaze, he saw Sam standing awkwardly at the bar in front of him. They made eye contact for a long moment, and then Sam said, "Hey, Dean."

"Hey, Sam."

"Can we, um, talk?"

Dean turned back to Jo. "You don't mind covering for a little while?" 

"It's dying down out here. Besides, Mom would probably fire me if I didn't do everything I could to make you stop pouting," she said. 

"I haven't been pouting," he growled as he quickly untied his apron. "I'll be back soon."

"Take your time."

Filling up two glasses of beer, Dean emerged from behind the bar and nodded his head towards a quiet back table. Sam followed him silently. 

When they were finally sitting across from each other, Dean admitted, "I was planning on calling you tomorrow."

"Really?" Sam asked, his forlorn puppy-dog eyes lightening slightly. 

Dean shrugged. "Well, yeah. I... I'm sorry, Sammy."

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that I'm not glad you're here. I hated that leaving Dad behind meant leaving you too. Family is important to me too—not just because Dad always said so, but because you’re important to me," Sam explained. 

Squaring his shoulders, Dean said, “And you’re important to me. That’s why I work how I do. Not because I like being a martyr, or whatever you said, but because this is something I can do for you.”

“But—”

Dean held up his hand. “I’m not unhappy, Sam. Hell, I’m a lot happier than I’ve been in a really long time.” When Sam looked doubtful, he continued, “I think I get what you meant about me needing someone else to spend my time on. I’ve been hanging out with someone, so I’m not just in Palo Alto for you. I’m making friends here.”

“Who?”

“Don’t look so skeptical. I can make friends. It’s Cas.”

“Cas as in Castiel, my old TA Castiel?” 

With a shrug, Dean explained, “We started hanging out after your party. He’s a cool dude. A good guy. I’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, and not so much time, you know, getting drunk in front of the TV by myself.” The joke fell flat, and Dean continued, “So stop stressing yourself. I’ve got somebody.”

“And you’re just friends?” Sam inquired. 

“Yeah, man. Just friends."

Sam raised his eyebrows. “…Do you want to be more than friends?”

“Jeez, Sammy, what are you… What? I’m not even… What?” Dean looked around the bar quickly, but no one seemed interested in their conversation.

With a sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Sam said, “I know you’re bi, Dean.”

“I’m not… Seriously, dude? Man, there’s no way this is how people are supposed to out their brothers. How the hell do you know?”

“We lived together for eighteen years. I’m not blind. I knew you didn’t want Dad to know, though, so I kept my mouth shut. It’s not a big deal, Dean.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. “Do you think Dad knew?”

“No, but does it matter?” Not waiting for an answer, Sam said, “So, do you want to be more than friends with Castiel?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to mess up what we’ve got now.”

Sam sighed and took a sip of his beer. “I’ve never seen you hesitate to go after someone before,” he mused. “You must really like him.”

“I… I do.”

“I can’t make you do anything. But you never know what it could be if you don’t try,” Sam said. “It was the same for me with Jess, and I’m so glad I took that risk.”

“Getting relationship advice from my little brother,” Dean sighed. “What’s the world coming to?”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Just think about it, okay? I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Dean looked around the bar and realized that they had already been talking for longer than he had expected. “I’ve got to get back over to the bar to help Jo out. But, listen, I don’t want to be in the same freaking town as you and only see you once a month. Come by again soon, okay? Or we can find time to do breakfast again. I promise not to storm out again.”

“Sometimes I’ll deserve it,” Sam pointed out with a smile, “but that would be awesome.”

“Drink your beer. It’s on the house,” Dean said, ruffling his long hair. “See you later, Sammy.”

\--

Dean wasn’t planning on confessing his everlasting love to Castiel or jumping his bones, but he decided to keep his options open. There was no harm in testing the waters to see if Castiel would be interested in anything beyond friendship with Dean. If the other man freaked out, Dean could just pretend that he was misinterpreting friendliness for flirtation. 

Dean opened the door without knocking, a habit he had gotten into during the past week after Castiel had complained about having to open the door for him all of the time. "I come bearing Star Wars and burgers," Dean declared as he strolled into the room. When Castiel didn't respond from the kitchen or living room, Dean called, "Cas?"

He had to have been home since the lights were on and the door had been unlocked. Dean was suddenly struck with the image of Castiel unconscious in the shower or being kidnapped from his desk, so he walked further into the apartment. "Cas?" he called again. 

Castiel suddenly emerged from his bathroom, a bottle of bleach in one hand and a rag in the other. "What?"

"Hey, Cas! I brought food and Star Wars."

"I don't have time to watch a movie," Castiel replied. 

"C'mon, man! You promised," Dean cajoled, grinning. 

Castiel's frown didn't budge. "Does it not look like I'm busy?" he asked, gesturing to the bottle of bleach. 

Dean hesitated. "You're just cleaning, right?"

"You are absurdly selfish, did you know that?" Castiel snapped, placing the bleach on the ground and stepping into Dean's space. On closer inspection, Dean realized that Castiel was looking pretty frantic. His already messy hair was sticking out at all angles, there were bags under his eyes, and his scowl seemed etched out of stone. 

"I..." Dean said, looking around for an escape. 

"You're not the only person who gets stressed out, Dean! You're not the only person who works non-stop and is exhausted every day. I can't just drop everything to entertain you all the time!" Castiel snapped, only inches from Dean's face.

When he had imagined them this close recently, it had been in an entirely different scenario. 

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. 

"Now you ask?"

Feeling a wave of guilt and shock like a punch to his gut, Dean said, "Look, Cas, I'm sorry. I never just wanted you to entertain me. I thought you liked having me around." Clearing his throat suddenly to cover how vulnerable he sounded, Dean continued, "I'll just get out of your hair."

At his words, though, Castiel deflated, looking suddenly more exhausted than angry. "No, you don't have to leave, Dean."

Castiel scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing at his faint beard. 

Still on the verge of running out in the face of this Castiel that apparently secretly resented him, Dean ventured, "I, uh, didn't realize you felt that way."

"It's not really about you," Castiel admitted, sighing. "Gabriel's coming into town."

"Gabriel, your cousin Gabriel?" Dean clarified. 

"He called me last night and told me that he's coming today. He wants to stay for the whole week!" 

"So you're bleaching your bathroom?" Dean asked, trying to follow. 

"And tearing people's heads off, apparently," Castiel said with a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm...nervous."

"Why? He obviously likes you enough to want to come stay with you," Dean pointed out, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. The DVDs and take-out bag were still in his hands, making him feel like an idiot. 

Castiel sighed, obviously searching for words. This was a far cry from his usual, articulate self that Dean was unsettled. "I don't want him to decide the others were right."

"You mean the douchebags who don't talk to you?" 

With a wince, Castiel said, "Yes, the rest of my family. I don't want to mess this up."

"Someone told me recently that family means working together to fix your mutual screw-ups," Dean said. 

"My family isn't like your family. What you and Sam have is unique. My family has no interest in repairing things with me."

"I thought Gabriel was different," Dean said. 

"People don't stick around me for long. Inevitably I say something odd or… randomly attack them outside my bathroom and make them realize they're better off without me."

"You haven't scared me off yet, Cas. If you hadn't freaked out at me like this at some point, I would have decided that my robot theory was correct," Dean told him. 

"But Gabriel..."

More of Cas's family may have been alive, but he was in the same boat as Dean. He only had one other connection in the world, and he wanted to hold onto that despite his anxieties and reservations. Castiel, who spent so much time acting like he was immune to the effects of other people's opinions, was a wreck over the acceptance of his last remaining family member. 

Castiel had helped Dean sort through his familial crisis, and Dean would be damned before he failed to return the favor. 

"All right, where do I start cleaning?"

"You don't have to--"

"I want to help. You eat one of those burgers—you look like you need it—while I finish up in the bathroom."

Castiel accepted the paper bag Dean thrust at him uncertainly. "Have you ever cleaned a bathroom?"

"I'm a dumb mechanic, not a Neanderthal. I know how to wax on, wax off, so I should be able to figure out a bathroom."

Eyes dropping to the trio of DVDs still resting in Dean's hands, Castiel said, "What about your movies?"

"You've waited twenty-five years. I think you'll survive another few days without the Force in your life."

For the first time since Dean had arrived, Castiel smiled. "Thank you, Dean."

"No problem."

\--

Dean strolled into The Roadhouse, grinning at Jo, who was waiting tables for the dinner crowd. "Hey, Dean," she greeted, "are you working another extra shift?"

"I'm actually here for dinner," he explained. "My friend Castiel's cousin is in town, so I'm meeting them."

"Aw, your buddy has someone else taking up all of his time?" Jo teased with a wink. "C'mon, I'll give you a table in my section."

Sitting there alone, Dean felt a brief wave of worry. Castiel had been so nervous about his cousin visiting. Dean didn't be the one to blame for screwing up their relationship. Luckily, Dean didn't have to wait long with his thoughts until Castiel and Gabriel showed up. 

Gabriel swaggered into The Roadhouse like he owned it, immediately throwing a wink at Jo. Castiel came in behind him, looking disapproving and imposing. Catching sight of Dean, Castiel corralled his cousin and sat down at the table. 

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said. "This is my cousin, Gabriel Milton."

"Howdy," Gabriel said. 

"Nice to meet you," Dean replied. 

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you," he said, raising his eyebrows. "A lot, a lot."

Casting a surprised glance at Castiel, Dean joked, "Well, don't believe everything you hear."

"Same for me. Unless you heard about me and those twins in Vegas, because that was totally true."

Castiel was looking more pained by the second. "Gabriel," he reprimanded. "How have you been, Dean?"

"Good, good," Dean said, leaving out the fact that he had been ridiculously lonely for the past few days without Castiel's constant presence. “So, Gabriel, what brings you into town?”

“I’ve got loose schedule. I’m a director, so I can pick my own hours. If I want a week off from L.A. to see the sights of a college town, who’s gonna stop me? Hell, maybe I can pick up a few new actors.”

“What kind of flicks?” Dean asked politely. 

“Skin.”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean said incredulously, “You direct porn?!”

Castiel shushed him, looking around the restaurant with a look of embarrassment. 

“Yep. Ever heard of Casa Erotica?” 

“You’re kidding,” Dean said. “That’s a hell of a job.” 

"So, what do you do, Dean-o?" Gabriel inquired, gaze sharpening. 

"I actually work nights here, but during the day I'm a mechanic," Dean explained. 

Raising his eyebrows, Gabriel said, "Hm, Cassie, I never thought you'd be the kind of guy to pick 'em for the pretty wrapping, but I can't say I blame you. Princess eyes like that probably make up for the lack of stimulating conversation."

"Excuse me?" Dean growled. 

"Then again, you guys probably focus on another type of stimulation, am I right?"

"Gabriel," Castiel snapped. 

"What?" Gabriel asked, blinking innocently. 

"Stop being an assbutt."

“I’m just making conversation with your boyfriend,” Gabriel said. 

Dean felt himself grow red. Suddenly, he began wondering if his crush on Castiel was more obvious than he had realized. There had been an alarming number of people recently jumping to the conclusion that they were dating. 

Castiel’s glare darkened. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

Gabriel laughed. “It’s okay; you’re already out of the closet. Would you believe that it’s still the topic of family reunions?”

“I think you need to shut your cake hole,” Dean snapped when Castiel’s expression turned hurt. 

“Touchy,” Gabriel said, glancing between Dean and Castiel. “Well, if he were your boyfriend, at least he—”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said coldly. “Stop. Dean is not my boyfriend, never has been my boyfriend, and never will be your boyfriend. And he won’t be my friend at all for much longer if you keep this up.” 

Forcing himself not to flinch at the venom in Castiel’s voice, Dean wondered if the idea of them dating was really so repugnant to his friend. Even when Castiel had been shouting at him in his apartment, he hadn’t looked as thoroughly pissed as he did now. Dean couldn’t imagine how Castiel would be acting if they hadn’t been in a public setting. 

“I should go,” Dean said. 

“C’mon, man, I was just having a bit of fun,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. 

Dean stood up, nearly shaking with anger. “You know, Cas was really excited that you were coming, but he was nervous as hell that you’d pull something like this. What’s the point of being the only person in your family who still talks to him if you’re just doing it to mess with him? You should consider yourself lucky that he still talks to you. If I were him, I’d have kicked you to the curb with rest of your asshole family ages ago.”

“Dean!” Castiel exclaimed. 

One look at his expression, a heartbreaking combination of fury and desperation, made Dean deflate. Torn between wanting to punch Gabriel in the face and wanting to apologize profusely to them both, Dean turned on his heel and left The Roadhouse. 

\--

It took a day of Dean constantly looking over to check his phone and finding it blank for him to start to worry that Castiel was never going to forgive him. 

Castiel had rarely asked for anything of Dean, but he had asked for Dean to get along with Gabriel. If his cousin had been pissed off about the fight enough to bail on Castiel, then Dean wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to Dean. The student had only had one family member left, and Dean had basically told him to fuck off. 

If Castiel had done the same to Sam, Dean would have wanted to kill him. 

His fingers hovered over his phone, itching to type out an apology, or to at least ask what had happened with Gabriel, but he couldn’t go through with it. The only thing worse than Castiel not wanting to talk to him was Castiel telling Dean he didn’t want to talk to him. 

After a night of barely sleeping, Dean was relieved to go into work. Someone had brought in a ’65 Skylark Gran Sport for a complete renovation, so Dean was able to throw himself into the labor and ignore his own brain. 

Lunchtime came and went with Dean still on a creeper under the car, letting himself get lost in nuts, bolts, and oil. He was succeeding, so he let out a startled squawk when a firm grip latched onto his ankle and pulled him out. Narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the car, Dean glared up as soon as he was free from the car, finding Bobby Singer standing over him. Bobby, the owner of the shop and a one-time friend of John Winchester, was a tough-as-nails mechanic with a surprisingly soft core to his gruff appearance and personality. 

“What?” Dean snapped. 

“What are you doing now, ya idjit?” Bobby asked. 

“Fixing a car. You know, what you pay me to do?”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Climbing to his feet so Bobby wouldn’t have such a height advantage, Dean said, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you look like someone kicked your puppy and then ran over it. And then backed up and ran over it again,” Bobby said. 

“I’m fine,” Dean said, crossing his arms. 

“You skipped lunch.”

With an uncomfortable shrug, Dean replied, “So I wasn’t hungry. Sue me.”

“I’ll leave that to your brother. Have you at least talked to him about whatever’s bugging you?”

“Nothing’s bugging me!”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Bobby shook his head, glancing around the garage. “Come to my office with me.”

Dean hesitated. “Am I in trouble? Hell, if anything I’ve been working harder than ever the past few days!”

“Just come on,” Bobby said. 

Reluctantly, Dean followed the old mechanic into his dingy office. Lit by a single fluorescent bulb and tall windows, the cluttered room was covered with papers, files, and books. There was a clunky computer at the desk, but the keyboard was missing and the computer itself seemed to be acting as another table. “Sit down,” Bobby said, gesturing to the metal chair across from the desk. 

“No thanks,” Dean replied. 

“Dammit, boy, I’m not trying to kill you. Just sit your ass down.” Turning around, Bobby opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a pair of old tumblers. 

Perching on the edge of the chair, Dean eyed the alcohol suspiciously. “We’re not allowed to drink on the job.”

“I’m the boss, and I say we could both use a hit,” Bobby replied. 

Dean accepted a glass and took a sip, letting the whiskey burn its way down his throat. 

“Now, listen up. You know I don’t like sitting around and talking about our feelings and drinking tea and braiding each other’s hair and all that shit. But when one of my guy’s comes in looking like shit, it looks bad on everyone. I won’t have people saying I don’t look after my own people, or that I work you until you’re dead.” Bobby leaned back against the desk and leveled a glare at Dean. "So talk.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell me what’s bothering you so that I have some kind of clue what’s going on. Hell, I haven’t seen you look this bad since you first rolled in here.”

With a frown, Dean protested, “I didn’t look that bad.”

“Your pa had just died, and you were out here within two days of his funeral. Trust me, you looked bad. But I thought you’ve been doing better the past few months. Ellen says so, too.”

“You’ve been talking to Ellen about me?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“We’re friends, and for some reason we care about you. I’m pretty sure that makes us both idjits, but I’m also sure that you need someone out there who gives a shit about you, and we’re what you’ve got.”

Dean sighed. “Look, I got in a fight with a friend. I’m pretty sure he’s never going to talk to me again.”

“This ‘friend’ the one you showed up at The Roadhouse with last week?” Bobby pressed. 

“You really have been talking to Ellen,” Dean muttered. “Yeah, him. Jo probably relayed the whole fight to Ellen, so I’m sure you know what went down.”

Rolling his eyes, Bobby said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“I fucked things up. I got into a fight with his cousin because he kept saying all this shit about me and Cas being… boyfriends, and Cas looked really pissed when I left. And before you ask, no, we aren’t boyfriends. I don’t know why everyone keeps asking that!”

“Boy, you think I give a damn what you and your dick get up to? I could go the rest of my life without knowing anything about your sex life. All I care about is if you’re happy. So, are you happy?”

“Well, no.”

“And is making up with this guy gonna make you happy?”

“I don’t know! It doesn’t matter because he’s the one not talking to me!”

“Yeah, why don’t I believe that? Look, you’re taking the weekend off, okay? When you come back in on Monday, either have fixed things with your guy, or have gotten over it. Got it?”

“Fine,” Dean snapped. 

“You’re a good kid, Dean. We all just want what’s best for you,” Bobby said. 

“I know, Bobby,” he replied with a huff.

“Now get back out there,” Bobby said. “That car’s not going to fix itself.”

As Dean left the office, it was feeling a bit lighter than when he’d entered. He blamed it on the whiskey.

\--

Dean didn't know how he had survived so long in Palo Alto without Castiel's company. With the student kept busy by his visiting cousin and with ignoring Dean, Dean was suddenly back to nights alone in his apartment. It was close to the same size as Castiel's place, but it felt so much emptier. 

Sitting in front of the television with an empty beer bottle in his hand on his first free Saturday morning in months, Dean realized that his life was always defined by other people. For so many years, it had been his dad. John Winchester had seemed like such a stable object in which to put his trust and devotion, but even in the years before John's death, Dean started to see through the illusion. 

John Winchester had been broken by Mary's death, and no amount of filial devotion could have fixed it. 

Damned if Dean hadn't tried anyway. 

After the accident, Dean had jumped straight out to California to be with Sam. When it had turned out that Sam wasn't available for the kind of constant attention Dean needed, he had found Castiel.

But apparently Castiel didn't need him either. 

Dean needed to do something for himself, rather than relying on other people.

Feeling suddenly motivated, Dean set his beer on the floor, grabbed his worn laptop and firing up Google. A quick search led him to find a hiking trail nearby. 

Hell, he had nothing better to do. No matter what Bobby had said, Dean wasn’t up to calling Castiel just yet.

Grabbing a bottle of water and throwing on a pair of tennis shoes, Dean hopped in the Impala and headed for Windy Hill.

\--

“I hadn’t realized how many places there were to hike around here,” Dean told Jo, ignoring the fact that her smile said that she was humoring him by listening. “It’s a bit of drive to some of them, but you know me and my baby.”

“You mean how you like to make up excuses for driving the long route so you can listen to outdated music?” Jo asked. 

Dean topped off a customer’s Jack and Coke, only rolling his eyes at Jo once he had turned away from the customer. It was nearly closing time at The Roadhouse on a Sunday evening, so the crowd was limited to a few lonely regulars, giving him time to chat with Jo between talking to customers. 

“The classics are never outdated,” Dean explained patiently.

“Maybe the more you get out of your house, the more you’re realize how wrong you are,” Jo teased. 

“What, you want me to start listening to Bieber?”

Jo punched him not-so-lightly in the arm. “I’m twenty-one, not twelve,” she told him. “I’ll burn you some real music that you can pop into ‘Baby’ every once in a while.”

“Only if you know how to make cassette tapes,” Dean replied with a cheeky grin. 

“God, no wonder Castiel likes you. You’re both secretly dinosaurs,” said a voice from the bar. 

Dean looked over to find Gabriel sitting on a stool, twiddling his thumbs innocently. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean hoped the sentence didn’t come out as angrily as it seemed to his ears.

“Calm down, Disney. I just want to talk. Also, a mudslide.” 

“All right, I’ll take a second break,” Dean said, glancing at Jo. 

Jo looked between them with raised eyebrows. Clearly, she remembered the fight the week before. “Don’t worry about it. You guys can talk here. Just keep your voices down this time. I’ll make your mudslide.”

Dean shot a glare at her, but she just shrugged and pretended to focus on wiping down the counter, as though she wasn’t going to listen to every word she said.

“I thought you were this big tough guy,” Gabriel continued. “I didn’t think you’d just roll over at the first sign of trouble. Seriously, man, grow some balls.”

“What are you going on about?” Dean asked. 

“I’m talking about Castiel. The Castiel that’s been moping around his apartment, staring between his phone and the door any time he thinks I’m not looking, and generally killing my buzz,” Gabriel said. “So I teased you guys about doing the dirty. Just ‘cause you’re a homophobe doesn’t mean you can just stop talking to a dude.”

“I’m not!” Dean practically shouted. At a glare from Jo as she slid the chocolate drink in front of Gabriel, he said more quietly, “I’m not homophobic."

“Hm, then what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that you were making him uncomfortable, and when I called you out on it, Cas got mad at me. I didn’t do anything!” Dean snapped. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and took a long drink of his mudslide. “You flipped your shit, Dean-o. Now Cassie thinks that he’s—or, well, I’ve—scared you off because you’ve finally seen his big gay crush on you, and you couldn’t take it. Castiel doesn’t want to freak you out by calling you again. He wants you to come back to him on your own, so he doesn’t feel like he’s making you do something you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t… He doesn’t have a… Wait, what?”

“Look, Dean, I may not have the best people skills, but I know Castiel. He was practically glowing with big neon letters that said ‘Fuck me, Dean Winchester.’ And, since I’m not blind, I saw you flaring the same signals right back at him.” Gabriel sighed gustily. “Unfortunately, Cassie is even worse at people stuff than I am, so he’s completely oblivious.”

Dean spluttered for a minute, and then finally said, “Really?”

“Oh my God, you two are ridiculous. Castiel would kill me if he knew I said this, but here’s the deal: Castiel is in love with you. You’re obviously in love with him. You both think you’ve scared the other person away, and that your heart will never heal, and blah blah blah. So you need to call him, or something, because otherwise you two stubborn idiots will never talk again.

“I may mess with Castiel, but I want him to be happy. For some reason, you make him happy. Since I thought that was the dumbest decision in the world, I may have been a bit hard on you before.”

“A bit?”

“But that was before I had to spend a week watching Castiel holding in his manly tears!” When Dean gave him a skeptic look, Gabriel shrugged. “Well, as tearful as Castiel gets. You’ve seen him. He doesn’t exactly emote. But he’s been really quiet and broody, and I haven’t seen him smile since our dinner from hell.”

For some reason, that hit Dean harder than anything else Gabriel had said. Castiel was unhappy because of Dean.

“How do I know you’re not just trying to trick me into admitting my feelings to him so that he can reject me and you can just, you know, laugh?”

“As hilarious as that would be, that’s not what this is about. I can’t make you do anything. But since you just admitted that you do have feelings for my cousin, you need to get your head out of your ass and tell him.” Gabriel drained the last of the drink and threw a ten onto the bar. “I fly out tomorrow morning, so at least wait until then. I don’t do sexiling.”

“I…”

“Just think it over, chucklehead,” Gabriel said with a wink, and then left the bar. 

Dean watched him leave, feeling like he had just been picked up by a tornado, knocked around, and then dropped in Oz’s stranger counterpart. 

Jo slid up beside him, casually grabbing the empty glass from the counter. 

“Don’t say anything,” he told her, holding up a hand. 

She gave a wide grin. “I wasn’t going to say anything. You’ll have some questions to answer tomorrow night though. If you show up.”

\--  
Dean was practically vibrating with energy by the time he got off work on Monday. Bobby had given him a slew of curious looks, but Dean had avoided discussing the issue that had very much not been settled over the weekend. 

Gabriel's words sat lodged in Dean's chest like embers, burning him slowly from the inside the longer he waited. Sam was usually considered the brains of the Winchester family, but Dean's imagination was more active than ever in providing every possible path for him and Castiel. 

He could have texted Castiel as soon as Gabriel had left The Roadhouse the night before and apologized, but phones were so impersonal. Over a call or a text message, Dean wouldn't get the chance to try to read Castiel. He had to talk to him in person. 

Maybe Castiel would be delighted with Dean's confession. Dean could imagine the happy flush to his cheeks and the shy cast of his eyes when he heard that Dean felt more for Castiel than he could remember feeling for anyone. Could imagine their first, delicate kiss. 

Even after all this time, Dean knew nothing about Castiel's romantic life, if he'd had one, but if Castiel ended up wanting to take things slow, Dean could handle it. If it meant having Castiel, Dean could be celibate for years waiting.

He really hoped he wasn't going to have to wait years. 

But of course, Castiel might be disgusted with Dean. The student may have been gay, but that didn't mean he was automatically attracted to Dean. Or maybe he was, but just wanted a quick fuck and then tried to go back to normal. 

He might just kick Dean right out of the apartment the second he saw him. 

When it finally reached five o'clock, Dean hopped into the Impala, swung by The Roadhouse to pick up a peace offering of Castiel's favorite cheeseburgers, and drove to Castiel's apartment. 

Dean didn't let himself hesitate outside of Castiel's door, knowing he could pussyfoot all day and never do a thing. After he had knocked, however, Dean began shifting back and forth, second-guessing himself. 

The door opened to reveal Castiel. The student looked the same as ever, despite Dean's vague hope of finding him in his pajamas, crying over their argument. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas, hi," Dean said. "Can we talk? I brought food."

Castiel stepped aside to let Dean enter the apartment. The apartment looked the same apart from the bed sheets crumpled at the end of the sofa, marking where Gabriel had slept. Most of the cleaning he and Castiel had done to prepare for Gabriel's arrival had been undone already. However, despite the similarities, Dean felt like a stranger in Castiel's home. No longer sure of his welcome, Dean waited for Castiel instead of heading straight to the kitchen. 

"I have work spread out on the kitchen table," Castiel told Dean. "We can eat on the couch."

"That's fine," Dean said, quickly sitting down and pulling the styrofoam boxes from the plastic bag. "I got burgers."

"So I see." Castiel was still standing, looking down at Dean with a tilted head and an unreadable expression. "Why are you here?"

"I just... I'm sorry, Cas. I was an ass to Gabriel."

"I could have defended myself," Castiel pointed out. 

"Okay, so maybe I was an ass to you, too. I just didn't like hearing him say that stuff about you."

Castiel's expression was closed. "I've told you about me, Dean. You know that he was telling the truth."

"Shit, not like that," Dean protested, itching to either stand up or drag Castiel onto the couch, but consciously avoiding any aggressive movements. "He was making you upset and used me to do it. Your family's a sensitive subject, and he shouldn't have rubbed it in your face like that. And gay jokes aren't funny to people who've had to put up with the kind of shit you have."

"Gabriel said that you were my boyfriend," Castiel began. 

"Which you denied whole-heatedly," Dean muttered, instantly regretting it when Castiel speared him with another intense stare. 

"You weren't offended by Gabriel," Castiel mused. 

Dean frowned. "I was definitely offended by Gabriel." 

"No, I mean..." Castiel gave him another assessing once-over, and then Dean suddenly found himself with a lapful of grad student. Castiel straddled him where he was sitting, one knee on either side of him. Dean's breath caught in his throat, his brain struggling to catch up with the chain of events. 

Castiel was still staring at him, searching his eyes for something. He moved slowly, leaning closer. "I mean, you weren't offended that Gabriel insinuated you were interested in me."

"Hell no, I wasn’t offended," Dean said. Holy shit, Castiel was in his lap. This was not the time to hold back. "I actually really like you, Cas. I, um..."

"This is what Gabriel meant when he said my people skills were rusty," Castiel said. He was so close that Dean could feel Castiel's breath against his lips. His eyes were the same bright blue that Dean had been lost in a dozen times, but now Dean was close enough to see the dark eyelashes that framed them. "I see it now," Castiel continued. 

Dean was frozen, unwilling to do anything that would make Castiel move away from him. "Great."

With one last look into Dean's eyes, Castiel pressed forward until their lips met. Castiel's lips were slightly chapped but full, and Dean was fascinated by the feeling of them. The sensation of Castiel's permanent scruff rubbing against Dean's five-o'clock shadow was novel, reminding Dean that he was kissing Cas. 

With that realization striking home, Dean groaned slightly into the kiss as his hands settled on Castiel's hips and pulled him even closer. Sweeping his tongue over the seam of Castiel's lips, Dean gained entrance to the other man's mouth and took full advantage, mapping everything. 

Still seated on his lap, Castiel was actively involved in the kiss, his tongue battling Dean's for dominance. His hands dragged down Dean's shirt, tracing the muscles underneath. For a moment, Dean was embarrassed by the fact that he had shown up to Castiel's apartment in a shirt stained by motor oil, but then Castiel was slowly sliding the shirt up and off of Dean's torso. 

Quickly, Dean fought to remove Castiel's shirt, fingers fumbling slightly with the long row of buttons. Would Castiel be pissed if Dean just ripped it off? Not giving Dean the chance, Castiel helped him finish unbuttoning the shirt, keeping his mouth locked with Dean's as much as possible, before he tossed it away from the couch. 

Suddenly, they were chest-to-chest, and the slide of their skin made Dean deepen the kiss, all tongues and teeth. Castiel drew back to trail kisses down Dean’s neck, alternating with light brushes of his teeth and broad strokes of his tongue, until he reached one of Dean’s nipples. As he laved attention on it, Castiel ground down on Dean’s groin, making his jeans feel even more uncomfortably tight. He needed more, fast. 

Dean moved his hands from their exploration of Castiel’s bare chest down to his black dress pants, but his fingers paused on the button. “Is this okay?” 

Castiel lifted his head to meet Dean’s eyes seriously. “This is perfect, but if we are not unclothed in the next few minutes, it will be decidedly less perfect.”

“But you… and me…” 

"I know you're not an idiot, Dean, so stop acting like one. I'm the one that kissed you, remember?"

"Yeah, but you're..."

"A virgin? That's because I've been waiting for someone worth my while," Castiel replied, leaning in for another kiss. 

Dean couldn't resist the brush of his lips or the quick sweep of his tongue, and didn't voice another argument as Castiel made his way down Dean's torso and deliberately undid the button of his jeans, looking up at Dean's eyes. Dean's breath grew slightly ragged, unable to look away. The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet apartment, and Dean watched with wide eyes as Castiel pulled Dean's jeans and boxers down to his feet, and then settled again in the space between his legs.

"Cas, please," Dean groaned, feeling as though all of his nerves were screaming for his touch.

Then, there was a hot mouth on the place he wanted it most, and Dean was unable to make another coherent sound. 

Castiel licked and sucked Dean's erection with excruciating thoroughness, like Dean was one of his foreign texts that he had to analyze inside and out. Bright blue eyes catalogued Dean's every gasp and groan, and hands swept from his thighs to his clenched stomach muscles, still exploring. 

Dean wrapped his hands in Castiel's dark, messy hair, and it took more willpower than he knew he possessed not to simply fuck his tempting mouth. However, part of Dean was powerless to stop Castiel now that he was finally looking at Dean with the half-lidded, lust-filled eyes of his fantasies. 

Even when Dean began babbling pleas for Cas to go harder, go faster, Castiel just ignored him in favor of alternating from the steady pressure with a long, slow lick. 

Dean's orgasm felt like it was pulled from his very core, like Castiel had lured it from some secret part of him, leaving him feeling shaky and deeply content. 

Castiel smiled up at Dean, confidence in his eyes as he absorbed Dean's expression. 

"Get that look off your face," Dean grumbled, "and get up here."

Quickly, Dean had Castiel lying under him on the couch, finally giving Dean some modicum of control. Despite the lingering bliss adding lethargy to his muscles, Dean's pulse quickened when he reached down to find Castiel already hard. Dean bad barely touched him yet, but apparently Castiel's earlier enthusiasm for the blow-job had not been faked. 

Dean wrapped a slightly uncertain hand over Castiel's length, making Castiel gasp loudly. "Dean," he said, like the word held entire libraries of meaning. His hands scrambled for purchase, clutching at Dean's back.

Though he'd given himself a hand a thousand times in the shower, it was entirely different to feel someone's arousal in his grasp. Dean was reminded that this was a guy—his best friend—that was beneath him. There were no curves, just hard angles, but Castiel's wide eyes took his breath away. How could he have ever thought Castiel's gender might make a difference? Dean may have been bisexual, but it was Castiel that made his body so irresistible, not the fact that he was another man. 

Castiel was looking up at Dean with absolute trust, if a bit of impatience, and Dean wasn't going to let him down. 

"I've got you," Dean said before setting a fast pace, giving Castiel the kind of straight-to-business approach to jerking off that Dean usually employed on himself. But for once, it wasn't about getting the other person off as fast as possible so Dean could go about enjoying his post-orgasmic bliss. Dean wanted to give Castiel this pleasure, to watch the recluse fall apart under his hands, to watch him let Dean watch his vulnerability. 

Castiel was hovering on the edge, the smug confidence from earlier replaced with utter need. "Dean," he repeated. 

"Just let go," Dean said, repeating, "I've got you."

Shuddering in his grasp, Castiel came then, eyes closing in pleasure, finally breaking contact with Dean's gaze. 

He leaned back on the couch, looking thoroughly content. Dean shifted his weight slightly off of Castiel's body, but before he could wonder whether to leave the couch or the apartment all together, Castiel's arm wrapped around Dean's torso and pulled him backwards so that they were spooning on the small couch. 

Dean was the little spoon. How had he gotten to the point in his life where that didn't even faze him at the moment?

"We should clean you up," Dean said quietly. 

"Later," Castiel muttered into his hair. 

"You'll be all sticky," Dean pointed out. 

There was a slight pressure as Castiel nudged the back of Dean's head with his nose. "Dean," he grumbled warningly. "Orgasms make me tired. We're going to sleep now."

"If you insist," Dean chuckled softly. With the stress of the past week of worrying about the status of his friendship with Castiel finally gone and the haze of his own release still lingering, Dean dropped into a light doze.

\--

About an hour later, Dean woke up, feeling a bone-deep satisfaction that was shocking in its intensity. A heavy arm was draped over his waist, and Castiel was a line of heat at his back. Still, this was the normal moment after a hook-up when Dean gracefully zipped up his pants and headed for the door. 

Sighing, Dean slipped from under Castiel’s arm and sat up on the couch, pulling up his jeans and glancing around for his shirt. It had disappeared at some point, and Castiel’s apartment was messy enough that the bundle of stained cotton wasn’t obvious. 

“Where are you going?” Castiel muttered from behind him. Dean glanced back, but he was unprepared for the rush of affection that hit him at the sight of Castiel’s tousled hair and tired eyes. 

“I have to go to work.” 

Castiel checked the clock on the wall. “In an hour.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve got to, you know, shower and stuff.”

The sleepy expression drifted off Castiel’s face, leaving him as sharp-eyed as ever. “What are you…?”

“I think I should go,” Dean replied. 

Castiel looked stunned and hurt. “Do you regret what happened?” he demanded.

“Don’t you?” Dean exclaimed. 

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "What would I have to regret?"

"You said you had been waiting for someone worth your time," Dean said uncertainly. 

"I did," Castiel replied simply. 

“C’mon, man, I know me. I’m a good lay, but that’s it. No one wants a bartender-mechanic with a laundry list of family issues to stick around for a… whatever it is you want from me.” 

"It’s called a relationship, and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re already halfway there. You are the most important person in the world to me. I'm not making a mistake here, and I'm not going to let your insecurities stop us from having something,” Castiel said, leveling a glare at him.

“Seriously?”

“I thought it was implied, but I’ll spell it out: I love you, Dean Winchester."

"Have I mentioned that I like when you're bossy?" Dean said, but his voice was slightly rough. What on earth had he done to deserve someone like Castiel?

“So, knowing I want this and you’re not going to talk me out of that, what do you say?”

Dean sighed. “I say yes. I want a relationship with you. Hell, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

“Come on, then,” Castiel said, standing up and pulling Dean to his feet. 

“Where?” Dean asked, following along. 

Castiel grinned at him. “You said you needed to take a shower,” Castiel said. “Let’s go.”

Though Dean had almost an hour before he had to leave for his night shift at The Roadhouse, he still stumbled into the bar almost fifteen minutes late.

\-- 

It was surprisingly easy for Dean and Castiel to settle into a pattern. Dean returned to visiting Castiel in his free time, but now in between chatting and watching Castiel work on his essays, they indulged in heavy make-out sessions on the couch or retired to Castiel's bedroom. The occasional post-coital naps gave Dean even more energy for the occasional nights he returned to Castiel’s apartment after his shifts at The Roadhouse. 

Castiel wasn't shy about initiating something when he was in the mood, but he could get so focused on his research that nothing Dean could say could distract him. Of course, that didn't stop Dean from trying, because if he made Castiel sexually frustrated enough during his work, the student would turn it around on Dean the minute he was done. 

For the first few weeks, they stayed in Castiel’s apartment as usual. The small rooms were something of a haven for Dean, a place away from the rest of his life where he felt happy and loved. It felt as though leaving those four walls was inviting trouble, and Dean didn’t want to see the end of their time together. 

That was why even after months of friendship, Castiel had only been to The Roadhouse the one time he had brought Gabriel. The grad student was a recluse, and Dean was happy to indulge him. 

However, the nagging from all of his co-workers for him to bring Castiel by once they discovered the reason for the new bounce in Dean’s step was becoming overwhelming, and he decided it was finally time to introduce them. 

“Hey, Cas, do you want to go out tonight? You know, on a date?” Dean asked one Sunday afternoon after returning to the apartment after his weekly brunch with Sam. 

“Have we not been dating for the past few weeks?” Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Dean shrugged. “Most people go out in public together when they’re official. If you want to be official, I mean. You know I’m good with take-out, movies, and sex.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed as it always did when he was presented with some societal norm that he found confusing. “So we’re not ‘official’ until our relationship has been witnessed by other people? That seems ridiculous.”

“Not like that,” Dean said, floundering. “I mean, I think of you as my… my boyfriend.”

“Of course,” Castiel replied easily. 

“But my friends want me to stop hiding away with you. They want to meet you.”

Looking baffled, Castiel said, “Why would they want to meet me?”

“Because they’ve heard a bit about you from me, and they’re too nosy for their own good. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it would get them off my back.”

Castiel gave him a pleased smile. “You talk about me to your friends.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t get cocky. It’s not like I wave my personal life around for everyone to see. I just mentioned it to Benny, the cook, when he asked the other week. I didn’t expect everyone to know by the next morning. The bar is like a high school, I swear.”

Hesitating, Castiel said, “I’m not very good with people.”

“You’re good with me. That’s all they’ll care about. Besides, we don’t have to stick around very long. We could go to dinner somewhere else and then grab drinks at The Roadhouse afterwards.” 

“If you’re sure, I’ll do it,” Castiel said, prompting Dean to lean over and brush a kiss across his lips. 

\--

“This was the worst idea ever,” Dean grumbled to himself, taking another sip of his bourbon. 

With a line of empty shot glasses in front of him, Castiel blinked. “I think I’m starting to feel something.”

Jo and Ellen exchanged impressed glances. Jo was working the bar, while Ellen and Benny had perched on bar stools on either side of Dean and Castiel. Dean really should have expected for Ellen to immediately try to get Castiel hammered, since that was her usual test for new people, but it hadn’t made the reality of Cas methodically downing a row of shots any less surprising—or hot. 

“So, Castiel, what is it that you do?” Ellen asked, eyeing him speculatively. 

“I’m a graduate student at Stanford,” Castiel explained. “My focus is biblical literature, especially the more… controversial side. It’s quite interesting.”

“Brainy,” Ellen mused. 

Dean grinned. “He’s brilliant. You should hear him go on about Milton. It’s impossible to follow along sometimes.”

Castiel blinked, looking hesitant. “But Dean, you enjoy discussing literature as well.”

Dean could feel his face heat up when his friends gave him surprised looks. “Have we met the same Dean Winchester? He’s about this high, likes to fix cars, mix drinks, and flirt with everything with legs,” Jo asked, laughing.

Hesitance morphing into still anger, Castiel said, “Perhaps there are parts of Dean that you do not know, or refuse to see.”

“Cas,” Dean said quietly, shaking his head.

“I guess you learn new things every day,” Ellen said easily, glaring at Jo when she opened her mouth again. 

Castiel settled down after that, allowing Ellen and Jo to interrogate him. Beside him, Benny nudged Dean. “He seems like a nice guy,” he told him. 

“He is,” Dean agreed. 

“I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, but I can see it now,” he continued. “You guys… click.”

Dean looked away. “C’mon, man, stop with the chick-flick moment. This is why I didn’t bring him around. Just because I’m dating this guy doesn’t mean I’m suddenly all feelings and girl talk, okay?”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Put a sock in it, brother. You’ve got hearts coming out of your eyes. I thought it was bad when you talked about him, but it’s worse when you look at him.”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, punching the cook in the arm. 

By the end of the night, Dean’s friends had all clearly warmed up thoroughly to Castiel, who seemed, in turn, more relaxed than when he had arrived. Dean knew that his friends came off as gruff at first, but they were his family. Castiel stayed at the bar throughout Dean’s shift, and when Dean had to fix drinks, either Ellen or Jo kept his boyfriend company.

At two in the morning, Dean was finally able to take off his apron. Stretching his arms over his head, Dean came around the bar to collect Castiel. 

Ellen patted Castiel’s shoulder as they said goodbye. “You be sure to take care of my boy, Castiel. Don’t let him pull that ‘too tough for help’ act on ya,” she said, winking at him.

“I’ll do my best,” Castiel said seriously. 

“All right, all right, break it up,” Dean said. “I’m taking Cas and we’re leaving. If I’d realized you guys were going to hit it off this much, I would never have brought him.”

“That’s not his serious face,” Castiel assured Ellen.

“He loves us,” Jo agreed, leaning over the bar with a wide grin. 

“Goodnight, guys,” Dean said. 

Once they were in the Impala on the drive back to Castiel’s place, Dean reached over to place a hand on Castiel’s thigh. “Thanks for coming tonight,” he said. 

“It wasn’t a chore. Your friends are very nice,” Castiel told him. “It makes me feel bad that Gabriel was so rude when you first met.”

“I waited to bring you until I was sure they would behave,” Dean promised, “even though that’s not really a word in their vocabularies.”

“I believe they were giving you a harder time than they gave me. They really like you, Dean.”

Dean shrugged, changing the subject. “I don’t why I haven’t taken you out before. I love how you look in my car.” It was true. The Impala had always been perfect in Dean’s eyes, but it seemed just a bit more so with Castiel in the passenger seat. It was like Dean had been waiting his whole life to find the right person to fill that spot. Suddenly, the words were out of his mouth without warning: “I love you.” 

“Dean,” Castiel said, surprise coloring his voice. 

“I know I haven’t actually said it before,” Dean said uncertainly, “but I thought it was… implied.”

He had to clench his hands on the wheel to stop himself from accidentally jerking the car off of the road when Castiel slid across the seat and pressed a warm kiss to Dean’s neck. When Castiel pressed closer, trailing kisses downward, Dean asked, “What are you doing?”

“I can think of a way I’d look even better in your car,” Castiel whispered against his skin before biting down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Dean swore and immediately pulled the Impala off the main road into an abandoned parking lot. They were less than five minutes from Castiel’s apartment, but Dean wasn’t about to risk crashing his baby. 

It wasn’t the first time that Dean had had sex on the Impala’s leather backseats, but it was sure as hell his favorite.

\--

“I can’t believe you let Jo and your other co-workers meet Castiel before me!” Sam said almost as soon as Dean picked up the phone.

“Hello to you, too,” Dean said. “Besides, you’ve already met Cas. You knew him months before I did!”

“But not as your boyfriend,” Sam exclaimed. “It’s different.”

“Ugh, you’re such a chick,” Dean complained. He was on his half-hour lunch break from the auto shop and was slurping on a chocolate milkshake as he spoke. 

‘You’re the one with a boyfriend,” Sam said snippily. 

“God, you suck. And don’t even make the easy joke on that. I invented dirty jokes, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replied. 

“How did you even know they got to meet him?” Dean asked, munching on a fry.

“Jo promised to keep me updated on you last time I came by the bar,” Sam admitted.

“That traitor,” Dean muttered. Now that he thought about it, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. The Harvelles were good folk, and Sam was a magnet for all sorts of people. 

“She said you were so adorable together that she wanted to puke,” Sam continued happily. “I didn’t know you could even do adorable.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Dean told him.

“Just bring Castiel along next Sunday for breakfast, all right? I’ll bring Jess, too.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You want to go on a double-date?”

“Not a double-date, just, you know, introducing Castiel to the family,” Sam said.

Dean absolutely did not get slightly choked up. “Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “See you then, Sammy.”

\--

Dean flopped back on the bed, feeling sated and sticky and loving every second of it. Castiel curled into his side, hand across Dean’s chest. Yawning so widely that his jaw popped, Dean felt his eyelids begin to droop, but he forced himself to stay awake. With a groan, he said, “Don’t let me fall asleep, all right? I’ve got to head back to my place to grab my uniform before I head out.”

Tracing a finger idly over his chest, Castiel said, “You know, it’d be easier if you just kept your things here.”

With a chuckle, Dean said, “Then it’ll just be even harder to make myself ever go home.” His eyelids began to close again without his permission. 

“You could just move all your things here.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “You want me to move in with you?” he exclaimed, looking over at Castiel. 

His boyfriend’s hair was even messier than usual, making Dean resist the urge to run his hands through it again. “It’s a logical decision,” Castiel said calmly. “You spend almost all of your time here as it is. This way you wouldn’t have to rush to retrieve something from your place before going to your jobs. In addition, sharing the rent would relieve some of your financial burden. You could even work fewer shifts and still have more money to put towards Sam’s education.”

Even in his post-orgasm haze, Dean could feel himself bristling. “My ‘financial burden’ is my business, not yours.”

Castiel sighed. “I’ve offended you.”

“I’m not going to be your, your kept man!” Dean exclaimed. 

Brows furrowed, Castiel replied, “I’m not attempting to degrade you. I’ve thought of all of the logical reasons and—”

“Yeah, well, maybe this shouldn’t be one of your logical things,” Dean said, sitting up in the bed and looking down at Castiel. “I’m not going to move in with you just because it makes sense. You might as well just get a roommate.”

Castiel hesitated, also moving into a sitting position. “I thought you would want to hear the potential benefits,” he muttered thoughtfully. 

“Well, thanks, but no—”

Spearing him with his blue gaze, Castiel said, “Dean, what if I said that I want you to move in with me because I want you to move in with me?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked suspiciously. 

The student looked flustered. “I want to live with you. I hate when I wake up and you’ve already left, or when I’m not sure whether or not to wait up for you because I’m not sure if you’re coming here or going to your apartment after you finish your shift at The Roadhouse.”

Flushing slightly, Dean said, “I can text you to let you know next time.”

“That’s not the point, Dean.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Honestly?” Castiel said. “I want everything. I haven’t pressed it because I know you have trouble with commitment, but I thought you felt the same way. Or if you didn’t yet, maybe living here full-time would help you decide. You’re the only person in the world that I can imagine myself being happy with. Isn’t this what couples do?”

Dean was floored, but there was a bubbly feeling in his chest at Castiel’s words that softened his shock. “I love you,” Dean told him softly. 

“I love you, too,” Castiel said. “Was that a yes?”

“You’re not just doing this so I don’t have to work as much?” Dean added hesitantly. 

“The less you work, the more time you’ll spend with me and the more relaxed you’ll be, but those are side-benefits, not the reason I want you here,” Castiel explained, kissing his shoulder. “So you’ll move in?”

“Who could argue with that?” Dean asked, turning to capture Castiel’s lips again. He shifted to straddle Castiel, feeling completely awake again. “I’ve got thirty minutes until I have to leave. What do you think?”

“I think that if you don’t start kissing me again, you’re going to be late to work,” Castiel said, warm hands settling on Dean’s hips.

Dean smirked and leaned down to kiss Castiel, able to feel the other man’s smile against his lips.

Epilogue: 

Looking around, Dean was amazed at the number of people who were at the house-warming party Sam had convinced Dean and Castiel to hold at their newly-shared apartment.

Castiel hadn’t been thrilled by the idea, but he seemed much more content here than he had at the party where they had met. 

Bobby and Ellen were chatting to the side, each already on their second beers. Jess was talking with Castiel, her warm smile clearly putting the other student at ease. Sam and Benny were staying away from the alcohol cooler, and they seemed to be getting along better than Dean would have guessed considering the difference in their backgrounds. Jo and her boyfriend Ash, who Dean had met on occasion and found to be endearingly insane, had cornered Castiel’s cousin Gabriel and his date, a smart-ass British man named Balthazar, of all things. Dean kept an eye on that last group, but they were all laughing together. He couldn’t decide whether or not that worried him more than if they had been fighting.

Dean himself was doing a sweep of the room, making sure that the beer bottles were staying away from Castiel’s books and that everyone was enjoying themselves. He had never had the opportunity to play host before, and found that he cared more about everyone’s opinions than he had expected. Maybe most people wouldn’t have invited their bosses to a party, but this had somehow become Dean’s family. 

Sam waved him over, so Dean joined him and Benny by one of the tall bookshelves. 

“Relax,” Sam insisted, laughing. “It’s your party.”

“I know,” Dean said with more confidence than he felt. “How are you holding up, Benny? I’m sorry your wife couldn’t make it.”

“I can’t stay long,” Benny admitted. “She’s only six months along. I thought all of the pregnancy cravings would start later. The things I’ve seen that woman eat...”

“Luckily she’s got a cook for a husband,” Sam pointed out. 

“Even I don’t know how to make nutella and pickles taste good together,” Benny sighed. His phone sounded from his pocket, and he laughed. “That’ll be her now,” he said, moving away from them to take the call. 

Dean leaned against the wall beside his brother, grinning. “So when I am going to get a little nephew?” 

“Let us at least finish undergrad before you start picking out the colors for the nursery,” Sam replied good-naturedly. 

“So you’re thinking this is long-term?” Dean questioned. 

“Yeah,” Sam said, blushing slightly. He glanced over to where Jess and Castiel were still talking. “She’s great. Then again, you’re in the same boat. Cas is pretty great too.”

“Keep your eyes on your own lover. That one’s mine,” Dean said with a grin. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you moved in with anyone. Monogamy is a good look on you, Dean,” his brother told him. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. 

“I’m serious,” Sam said. “I’m glad you found Cas. He’s good for you.”

Dean shrugged. “I know.” His eyes drifted back to Cas and Jess, and he couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his face. “We’re two lucky bastards, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Sam said softly. 

Castiel caught Dean’s gaze and gave him a soft smile. Dean didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have Castiel in his life. Maybe Dean wasn’t just around to take care of his little brother Maybe he could look after Sam and work on his own happiness. 

Dean looked around the small gathering with the feeling of contentment settled firmly in his chest. 

For someone who came to Palo Alto with a duffle bag over his shoulder and only one name in his phone’s contact list, Dean’s life was working out to be pretty amazing.


End file.
